


Atobe Vs. Yukimura

by BreakPoint (erithacus)



Series: Atobe Versus [2]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F/F, Fem!Characters, Femslash, Polyamory, femmeslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3628458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erithacus/pseuds/BreakPoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lesson in aesthetic attraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atobe Vs. Yukimura

Yukimura met Atobe at the center of the net. She surveyed the sea of Hyotei students crowded around the court like ravenous birds waiting for a feast. “Looks like we have an audience.”

Atobe’s lips curled into a smirk as she glanced around them “I tried to keep it quiet. But these things get around.”

Yukimura wondered if Atobe was telling the truth. They had come to an agreement that this match and any consequences resulting from it, was a one-time thing. But Atobe was the type who liked witnesses.

Well, Yukimura could hardly blame her for that. “I have a few tails of my own.” Yukimura said and Atobe followed Yukimura’s eyes to her teammates in the opposite end of the bleachers.

Atobe waved to Sanada who promptly turned a bright red that Atobe could see even at the distance.

Yukimura narrowed her eyes and cleared her throat. “Shall we begin?” She asked curtly.

Yukimura demanded complete attention when she was on the court. Atobe could relate to that. Despite their rather large audience, Yukimura had no intention of letting Atobe’s mind wander.

“You have my undivided attention.” Atobe purred and Yukimura graced her with a regal smile.

Yukimura placed her racket head on the ground. “Which?” She asked and Atobe called Rough.

Yukimura let the racket spin and then picked it up. “It’s Smooth.”

Atobe shrugged in indifference and Yukimura said, “You can serve.”

Atobe’s eyes flashed for a moment. “Fine.” She pointed her racket toward the Child of God like a gun. “But don’t hold back on me.”

“I could think of no greater insult.” Yukimura grinned.

Atobe seemed satisfied. “Good.”

Atobe walked to the service line and palmed a ball. She bounced it off the court twice.

Yukimura raised an eyebrow. “No theatrics?”

Usually Atobe had thrown her jacket in the air by now, but she wasn’t wearing it. Instead of her Hyotei Regular uniform, she was wearing a pricey looking tennis dress that looked like it had been precisely tailored just for her. And the Hyotei gallery was eerily quiet. Yukimura thought she’d have been deafened by their chants by now.

“Not today.” Atobe said and gave Yukimura a look that made the corners of Yukimura’s lips twitch.

Intimidation was a big part of the psychological aspect of tennis and Yukimura had always thought a large part of Atobe’s power came from those chants. Maybe Atobe felt she didn’t need to hide behind her usual flashiness today. How presumptuous.

Everyone present could tell that this was a special match. But only a handful of them knew what this was really about. Still, even though this was supposedly a ‘friendly’ match, Yukimura felt like it was an assassination attempt. Like Atobe wanted to take her out now that Echizen had knocked the Child of God back down to earth. But Yukimura had no intention of losing, here or anywhere, not ever again.

It seemed they both had something they felt they needed to prove. They both wanted a claim to the throne that’d been usurped by that smart-mouthed brat. They both ached inside at glimpsing the place in the sun that only Echizen had been able to touch. If Yukimura were to be completely gracitous, Atobe was one of the very few Yukimura had felt threatened by in the past, making Atobe the perfect person to help her reassert her dominance and regain some of the confidence she’d lost.

Right off the bat Atobe started with her Tannhauser Serve. She wasn’t going to take any chances. Yukimura wasn’t fazed in the least. She hit it back effortlessly. Her movements were fluid and graceful, like a dancer’s.

Atobe was glad to see Yukimura’s recent defeat hadn’t dampened her spirit any. She had been a bit worried that maybe Yukimura wouldn’t be up for a game so shortly after losing the National’s title. But Yukimura appeared to be in top form. Not just physically, but mentally too. Even so, a loss that big had to have left some emotional scars. They would work in Atobe’s favour.

The rally lasted a full minute, the ball bouncing back and forth so fast that Atobe wondered if their audience would hurt their necks following its movements. Finally, Yukimura scored and the referee, Hyotei’s Oshitari, called 15-Love. Her infamous poker face showing none of the disbelief she felt.

Yukimura vaguely noticed that Kabaji wasn’t among the Hyotei crowd. She wondered if it was a matter of conflicting schedules or perhaps it was intentional. Maybe Kabaji didn’t care to see her lover’s conquests. Or maybe it was Atobe who didn’t want her there. Pity, Yukimura had every intention of bringing Atobe to her limits today, it’d be a shame to have missed it.

Yukimura broke Atobe’s serve in that first game, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on Atobe’s state of mind. Rather, she looked thrilled and brimming with energy. Atobe was beautiful and resilient. She reminded Yukimura of a hydrangea. Full of pride, the ruler over a large part of Japanese flora, but also potentially dangerous. Plus hydrangeas could be a pretty Hyotei blue. Or maybe she was more like a dahlia? The flower of good taste. Attractive to all sorts of insects and incredibly stubborn. Well, maybe, that wasn’t quite right either. Atobe was definitely more of a cactus dahlia. All the diversity of a dahlia, only decidedly more flamboyant. And the cactus, of course, being the flower for lust.

Atobe usually tied her hair up for her matches, but she’d left it down this time. The tresses, gently curled, moved in the wind and Atobe flipped them behind her with a quick toss of her head. She moved like a model at a fashion shoot and Yukimura was secretly glad that Atobe couldn’t quite quell the hunger she had for flashy displays. They were hair extensions, obviously, since Echizen had cut her hair after their match at the semi-finals. It had been quite the sacrifice, especially for Atobe who was just as partial to aesthetics as Yukimura was. Echizen had been an absolute brat to make sure the cut was as unsightly as possible. Atobe had born it bravely for a whole week before having it fixed.

For Atobe, looks were very important. Yukimura knew they had similar views on the subject as they were both great admirers of beauty. Did that make them shallow? Yukimura’s aesthetic attractions were often powerful motivators, but she had never felt bad about that. Her taste for beauty ranged from everywhere from flowers and clothing to the narrowness of Rena’s hips and the broadness of Geijutsuko’s shoulders. She was the type who took her duties on the Beautification Committee quite seriously. And Atobe was truly a thing of beauty. Her features were statuesque. The seriousness of the match etched in her carefully sculpted eyebrows, but the amusement plain as day on her perfectly painted lips. Atobe was a dream for anyone looking for a muse.

Yukimura wondered how long it had taken Atobe to choose what to wear today. It was obvious she had chosen the tennis dress knowing it perfectly matched her eyes. Knowing it would compliment her hair and skintone against the sunny and dull concrete of the street court. The back of the dress cut in just a way to expose the middle of her back. The sun-kissed skin there shining with sweat. Atobe chose her outfits with an artist’s attention to detail. Atobe could not have found a more attentive admirer. While other people rolled their eyes at the way Atobe funneled money into decisions like Hyotei’s lavender tennis courts, Yukimura was filled with nothing but admiration. If Rikkai’s budget had allowed it, she may have done something similar.

Atobe could feel the way Yukimura’s eyes appraised her. It lit her on fire. It was one thing dressing for people who would think she was beautiful in a garbage bag, but it was quite another to have this amount of appreciation from someone who took these things just as seriously.

Atobe knew that people pitted them against each other. Their personalities, their fashion statements, all of it seemed like fodder for the gossip pages. Last year when Hyotei was the favourite to win the Nationals, journalists had sensationalised their rare and brief encounters as ‘catty’. One journal had dubbed their expected showdown “Fighting Fashionistas! Which Glamazon will take the Glory at this year’s Nationals Tournament?” They made it sound like they were going to pull each other’s hair instead of play a serious match. And Atobe had wanted it so badly, to show those brainless journalists that they were serious tennis players, not snotty kids on a playground. Atobe had never once thought of Yukimura as anything less than a worthy rival holding a position she coveted. In a way they were comrades, both victims of the merciless media who turned every fashion choice into an excuse to degrade their talent.

Yukimura was clearly dominating the game, but Atobe was making her work for every point. This match was clearly an endurance game. The score was now 3-0 but neither one of them had begun getting serious yet.

Yukimura feigned a yawn. “Aren’t you going to show me your World of Ice?”

Atobe smirked. “Have you been waiting?”

Yukimura continued to act indifferent. “It’s interesting, is all. Don’t think it will make a difference.”

“Oh? You’re sure about that?”

“Well, I know one annoying brat who managed to beat it.”

Atobe grimaced. “Maybe. But she beat _you_ too. So doesn’t that make us even?”

Yukimura gave her a bitter smile. “We’ll see about that.”

The game’s mood shifted. The tension skyrocketed and Yukimura was suddenly plagued with the memory of Echizen and that final match.

Victory had been her life for so long it was difficult to remember that she couldn’t really afford that luxury anymore. Was Atobe just the first in a long line of rivals wanting to take her on now that she appeared more human?

Atobe used the slight moment of hesitation to pinpoint a blind spot.

Her World of Ice sprung up around the Rikkai captain.

Yukimura was momentarily halted. A chill ran through her. The ball disappeared into a blind spot.

“That won’t work again.” Yukimura said, a dark timbre in her voice.

Atobe just looked pleased.

Yukimura couldn’t ignore the thrill. “And here I was thinking you were going to be easy.”

Atobe faked indignation. “Who’s been saying I’m easy?”

Yukimura shared her grin. Personally, she preferred ‘accommodating’. Though for Atobe, maybe ‘high maintenance’ was more accurate. At the very base level there was certainly nothing particularly ‘easy’ about being in Atobe Keiko’s gaze. For one thing, there was an enormous amount of pressure to preform. Yukimura was playing her best, something she rarely did outside of tournament and definitely not just for a friendly match. She liked to devour her prey quickly. Atobe clearly liked the long, drawn out seductions. Yukimura had never felt compelled to adhere to someone else’s preferences before. It was a strangely bewitching situation. She understood Sanada’s obsession with her.

Yukimura was growing impatient. It was time to step things up a bit. She robbed Atobe of her sight first. Was there any point in dragging it out? But Atobe’s tennis sense was truly immaculate. It didn’t seem to slow her down at all.

Atobe licked her lips. The darkness surrounding her didn’t really matter. She could still keep up even blinded. She had been waiting for this for the past year. Atobe had been bitterly disappointed when Hyotei faced straight losses at the Kantou finals. She had barely even gotten a chance to step onto the court and she had been so looking forward to facing the so called ‘Child of God’. Since then, they’d never seemed to run into each other. Or maybe they’d been avoiding each other?

Yukimura didn’t waste any more time taking away her other senses.

Atobe could feel her senses fading. The redundancy of missed shots taking their toll. When she could no longer feel her fingers, she knew she had to do something.

Atobe called to mind the match between Echizen and Yukimura. What had Echizen done to break Yukimura’s spell? Atobe couldn’t feel her fingers. She couldn’t see, hear, or feel, but her tennis sense was stronger and Atobe could feel Yukimura’s eyes on her. It was enough to anticipate the ball’s trajectory. Oh yeah, Echizen had found the light inside of her love of tennis. Atobe loved tennis too but she was consumed by it. Maybe it was impossible for her to love tennis so pure-heartedly. Maybe she took tennis too seriously, enough to get bogged down and caught up in Yukimura’s trick, but this wasn’t a life or death match. This was supposed to be fun. And wasn’t it? Wasn’t it exactly as Atobe thought it would be?

Yukimura had isolated her from their audience and from the rest of the world. Atobe knew she would continue to grow despondent, her mind filling with despair until she became completely useless. She would reach out and feel nothing. See nothing.

But she _wasn’t_ alone. Yukimura was still there. Unrelenting. Merciless. They were in a world of their own creation, just the two of them. Atobe couldn’t feel _herself_ , but she could feel Yukimura. She could still feel the way Yukimura’s eyes burned into her, the way her eyes examined every movement. And she could feel her determination too, like a steel wall. Atobe couldn’t find a single opening. But Atobe wouldn’t despair, she couldn’t, because the more Yukimura got serious, the more Atobe wanted her. As frustrated as the game was making her, Atobe was excited for the outcome. That excitement fuelled her returns. Even in the darkness, she could see the silver lining and slowly they began to transform into the cracks in Yukimura’s impenetrable wall.

Yukimura watched the shift in Atobe’s play. She was starting to break out of the isolation Yukimura had imposed. Had Atobe mastered the Pinnacle of Perfection? No, this was something different. Yukimura recognized that look in her eyes, the swing of her hips. Even in this situation, Atobe’s sensuality was unbelievable. Atobe’s lust was awakening her senses. Figures, Atobe was always thinking with her--

In a matter of minutes, Atobe had nullified Yukimura’s tennis.

A whiteness passed through Yukimura’s mind. Pure rage. She slammed the ball as hard as she could. For a moment, she felt as though she had lost her mind, for a moment she had really wanted to hurt someone. At the last second, she directed the ball away from Atobe and the ball missed her by millimeters. Had it hit, it would have definitely left a mark.

Apparently she wasn’t _completely_ unaffected by the anger and frustration of losing to Echizen. Yukimura took a deep breath to compose herself. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

Atobe didn’t look like she minded. If anything, she looked like she was having fun. There was also a bit of smugness there. She was proud to have caused Yukimura to play at full throttle, even if it had been a mere moment. And she was clearly pleased with herself for breaking free even without the mythical Pinnacle of Perfection.

Yukimura had coasted for too long. She could see that now. Being an undefeated champion for so long, half her battles were won before she ever stepped foot on the court. When people _believed_ they couldn’t beat her, they had already dug their grave.

Yukimura’d been almost relieved when Echizen had shown up without her tennis skills. And it had annoyed her that Sanada left in order to help the Princess gain her memories back. Just whose side was she on? But after the match was over and the anger and hurt of humiliating loss had cleared, Yukimura could see how Sanada and her teammates’ faith in her had never faltered. Even with Echizen at full power, they’d still believed in her. Their Child of God. And what was more, Sanada could see more clearly than she did how a true challenge could bring her to the level she’d always dreamed of. Was she truly happy coasting through tournaments? When was the last time she’d played for real? Those were the thoughts and emotions behind Sanada’s actions. In a way, her delivering Echizen had been a gift.

Yukimura hadn’t forgotten how Echizen had beaten Sanada. But the loss had an interesting effect on the Vice Captain. Yukimura hadn’t seen her so determined and glowing since Yukimura had been hospitalized. Suddenly Sanada had an air about her that radiated a brilliance and strength brought on only by adversity. If Sanada had noticed it in herself, maybe that’s why she felt Yukimura needed a similar awakening. She had probably never thought Yukimura might _lose_ , but maybe that hadn’t been such a dreadful occurrence after all.

Now Atobe was pushing her, harder than she’d been pushed in a long time. Unlike Yukimura, who’d been only too happy to give the least of herself to her opponents, Atobe gave it all.

Despite herself, her match with Echizen had changed her. Yukimura had always believed that it was of vital importance to win every match. She had never noticed how negatively those obligations had affected her until it was too late. The truth was she had been terrified of losing. She had thought the world was going to end, she thought all of the work she’d put into herself and her team would become worthless, she thought her friendships would deteriorate right then and there. But none of those things had happened. She still had her friends, she still had her recovery, and she was learning to love tennis all over again. Tennis was meant to be enjoyed, not act as a ball and chain. Losing wasn’t the end. She could get better. She _would_ get better.

And she could see the truth now. Atobe didn’t think she was weak. This wasn’t some grudge match. Rather, Atobe craved only the strong, her attraction to people made up almost entirely of only the best players. They’d _both_ lost to Echizen and both had floundered for the meaning in that. But maybe they had both needed a healthy dose of humility. Their obsessions with tennis had been holding them back, but maybe now they could recreate their relationships with the sport spurred on with matches just like this.

Truthfully, Yukimura had wanted this game. Not just because of Atobe, but because she didn’t want to be afraid of losing anymore. It was a new feeling, one she wanted to explore. The anxious looming presence that had haunted her, like a monster in the closet or under the bed, was becoming less and less frightening. Maybe now she could look it in the eye and not even blink. And if she was being perfectly honest, losing to Atobe might be fun.

Too soon the game was over. Yukimura had barely felt the passage of time. She hadn’t felt that way for years. Maybe the Pinnacle of Perfection wasn’t completely beyond her reach.

Oshitari called the game. “6-4, Yukimura is the winner.”

If this had been a six set match, like at an International Open Tournament, Yukumura wasn’t so sure she’d have been able to beat the tenacious Atobe. Not at her present state. It seemed like everyone these days was pushing Yukimura to her limits. It wasn’t such a bad thing. After the disgust and disappointment she’d felt losing the Nationals, she needed to learn to trust herself again. She was surprised how much she’d missed this. The feeling of victory after wavering doubt. The challenge. The excitement. The absolute thrill of beating someone who is really good. Really,  _really_ good.

Sweat dripped down Atobe’s face and Yukimura watched it trace the curve of her neck. They stared at each other over the net and shared a smile at an unspoken inside joke.

Though her stamina was thoroughly depleted, Atobe felt her body responding to Yukimura’s gaze. They each took a step toward each other. The crowd was completely silent, most of them unsure of what was happening. The winner was still to be decided.

Yukimura wondered if she maybe should tell Atobe that this had been exactly what she needed. But the Ice Queen’s ego was inflated enough already. And something told her, she already knew.

They were only inches apart and Atobe watched Yukimura’s mouth expectantly. But Yukimura held out her hand instead. Atobe reluctantly took it. Disappointment in both the outcome of the game and of this silent war, unspoken but obvious in her eyes.

“Good game.” Yukimura said.

“Ah.” Atobe replied, still waiting to see if Yukimura would make a move in the right direction.

But Yukimura turned away. So Atobe said, “Is that all?” Honestly, Atobe had no idea what she was supposed to do here. Somehow Atobe had guessed that this would all go Yukimura’s way. Atobe had tried not to get her hopes up, but she still felt that sting of disappointment anyway. Playing tennis and this other private game, was precarious. She knew that there couldn’t always be a balance between the two and maybe this match was a bit too much emotion for one day. Disappointed as she would be, she wasn’t about to push Yukimura’s boundaries. Still, she had to try.

Yukimura turned back to her with a serene smile, putting Atobe’s doubts immediately to rest. She lowered her voice so their prying spectators couldn’t eavesdrop. “I’d rather not have an audience to my intimate life.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Atobe said.

Yukimura laughed. “I didn’t think so.” Yukimura was known to like a spectacle now and then, but within reason. And never with something so personal.

Atobe sighed. This was clearly another match she wasn’t going to win. She relented. Fine, they would do it Yukimura’s way.

Yukimura fixed her with that intense, predatory look. “Oh, I plan to collect my winnings. Just not here. I’ll meet you across the street in half an hour.”

Yukimura needed time to get herself together. She had nearly lost herself in that game and right now, without a buffering period, she wasn’t sure what she might do. Plus she was physically drained, if she didn’t rest for a bit, how fun would that be?

A rush of heat flowed through Atobe, insisting she ignore her exhaustion. She shrugged her shoulders in her best imitation of indifference, which Yukimura completely saw through. There wasn’t any point in playing hard to get now. “Thirty minutes.” Atobe agreed.

It was only thirty minutes, but it seemed way too long. She didn’t just want Yukimura, she wanted her right now, glowing, breathless, and high off victory. But she had lost and now it was Yukimura's call. So she’d wait. Thirty minutes.

 

Yukimura greeted her teammates. Sanada and Yanagi exchanged a look but didn’t ask any questions. This was something best discussed away from their prying teammates.

They all congratulated Yukimura and the others said farewell so they could get to the arcade.

When they were out of sight, Yukimura gave Sanada a knowing look. “She can really draw you in, can’t she?”

“Why didn’t you go with Atobe?” Sanada asked. Both Yanagi and Sanada had assumed she would disappear as soon as the match was over.

Yukimura grinned. “You wouldn’t understand, you have no patience.”

Sanada huffed, making both Yanagi and Yukimura laugh.

“Don’t you know anticipation is the most powerful aphrodisiac?” Yukimura grinned.

In exactly thirty minutes, a black limousine pulled up across the street. A small crowd gathered, expecting a celebrity, but the rear door just opened and no one got out.

“Well,” Yukimura said, turning to her companions. “I think that’s for me.”

Yukimura left them and they watched her walk across the street and disappear into the back of the limo.

“Well,” Yanagi said. “That was an interesting match.”

Sanada pretended not to have an opinion. “It’s was okay.”

“You were digging your fingers into my thigh.” Yanagi offered.

Sanada ignored her in favour of her composure.

But Yanagi wasn’t about to drop it. “I wanted to help, but then we’d have both missed the match.”

Sanada said nothing. She’d have welcomed Rena’s distraction anyway. Watching Yukimura and Atobe together was almost as much as she could handle. She was trying her best not to imagine what they would be doing now that the game was over. Yukimura never kissed and told, but Sanada knew she would be able to glean the information from Atobe the next time they met.

Yanagi seemed to have the same idea because she said, “When are you seeing Atobe next?”

 

In the back of the limousine Yukimura smirked at the flashiness of it all. It was a nice gesture, but it was all a bit too cliched for her.

Atobe’s phone vibrated and Atobe quickly glanced at the message. She typed a short reply and Yukimura guessed by the sour expression on her face that she must be relaying the final score of their match. Atobe tossed the phone over the seat and out of sight.

“Were you planning to spoil me?” Yukimura laughed, taking in the impressive setting. “Let me guess. Champagne? Flower petals?” Yukumura couldn’t resist the jabs to Atobe’s ego. But really, Atobe was too much. All this stuff was unnecessary.

Atobe gave her a petulant look. Her pink lips a perfect pout. “And? How would you advise a mere mortal in this manner?”

Yukimura grinned and stood. “Simply.” She said and let her dress fall to the floor. Her undergarments were plain and unshowy, but they did absolutely nothing to take away from the pure ethereal energy that Yukimura exuded.

She straddled Atobe’s lap in a heartbeat, closing the distance between them with a passionate kiss. "Don’t you know anything about gods? They're the origin of all debauchery."

Yukimura was positively divine and there was something absolutely thrilling in how carnal this all was. This was, of course, a once in a lifetime opportunity and Atobe planned to savour every second. She didn’t delude herself into thinking that they would reach any kind of ‘arrangement’ like she had with Sanada, but that was probably for the best.

Atobe slide her fingers down Yukimura’s delicate skin. It was hard to believe that this skinny, pale girl had given her the run around just a half hour before.

Yukimura moved off of Atobe and the other girl pulled off her dress, slowly. The way she moved was sultry and purposeful. Yukimura had never had a lover with Atobe’s particular kind of… showmanship. Yukimura couldn’t wait to take away her self-possession, bit by bit.

Yukimura could tell that Atobe was the type who liked to remain in control for as long as possible. But she could also tell that Atobe relished the idea of having that control taken from her. It was a fortunate coincidence that Yukimura was the controlling type. She had discovered quite early that she enjoyed being in control in these situations as well.

“Do you trust me?” Yukimura whispered in her ear.

“No.” Atobe answered honestly. She turned her head to kiss her, pulling Yukimura’s lip with her teeth. “But do it anyway.”

Taking away Atobe’s sight made her other senses stronger. Atobe’s sense of touch went into overdrive wherever Yukimura tailed her fingers. She might not trust Yukimura implicitly, but Yukimura was the sense deprivation expert after all, and in this game, only feeling good mattered.

Atobe didn’t have any choice but to bend to Yukimura’s will. It was strangely freeing. Atobe wanted for nothing, but here Yukimura could spoil her just a little.

Yukimura took a deep pleasure in the way Atobe arched and moaned under her touch. It didn’t take long at all until Atobe was begging her for more. Yukimura eventually complied. But she took her sweet time, bringing Atobe so close to completion before scaling back and doing it all over again. Her sadistic streak shining through.

At last Yukimura took pity on her and colours exploded behind Atobe’s eyes, every sensation being drawn out of her like fireworks all at once.

Yukimura fell into Atobe’s lap and pressed a feverish kiss to her mouth. She turned so her back was pressed to Atobe’s chest. Atobe wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tightly as Yukimura straddled her thigh and pressed herself down. The slow grind made her throw her head back and Atobe mouthed her neck.

Afterwards, Yukimura let Atobe open champagne. Mostly because she was parched, but also because she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t come to enjoy Atobe’s random acts of generosity. She had come to understand, in one way or another, that it wasn’t simply a flashy display of wealth on Atobe’s part. Rather, since Atobe was almost incapable of producing the words, ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’, she had become used to showing her appreciation with gifts and overly ridiculous gestures. Need she mention how the weekend closest to Kabaji’s birthday was basically a tennis player’s stat holiday because of the ridiculous parties? Yes, being with Atobe must get exhausting very quickly, but it wasn’t without its perks.

**Author's Note:**

> Up Next: Atobe vs. Yanagi.
> 
> Also! This series is getting fanmixed <3 You can listen to the mixes at: http://8tracks.com/teniouja


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